


ain't it funny what you'll do

by lizzybean



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hook Up, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, mechanic AU, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzybean/pseuds/lizzybean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Niall is the only one in the shop when this guy rolls in on his bike, decked out in leather with black spiked hair and cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. He has to hide in the back room of the office for a moment to psych himself up when he sees this client coming, hands jittering slightly with nerves. </p>
<p>It's not because this particular guy is intimidating, it's because he's hot. Hot as all hell. He's someone that Niall would stop and stare at if he passed them on the street. He's beautiful in every sense of the word, even with his rough and tumble exterior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ain't it funny what you'll do

**Author's Note:**

> I have no words. This was written more or less in one sitting, so any mistakes (and there may be some) are mine. 
> 
> Title from Knee Socks by Arctic Monkeys

Of course Niall is the only one in the shop when this guy rolls in on his bike, decked out in leather with black spiked hair and cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. He has to hide in the back room of the office for a moment to psych himself up when he sees this client coming, hands jittering slightly with nerves. 

It's not because this particular guy is intimidating, it's because he's hot. Hot as all hell. He's someone that Niall would stop and stare at if he passed them on the street. He's beautiful in every sense of the word, even with his rough and tumble exterior. 

And when this particular client starts ringing the little bell up front for nearly a minute straight, that's when Niall steps out, pretending to wipe his hands on his jeans. 

“Sorry to keep you waitin', just finishing up lunch,” he lies, giving the other man a bright smile. Up close, Niall can really check out the man's dark amber eyes, framed with long, almost doe-like eyelashes. He's captivated. 

“Yeah, I just need a quick tune up and an oil change,” this guy notes, shrugging one shoulder as he leans against the counter. Niall nods as he jots this down on a form, pushing it towards him. 

“Just fill this out, please, and I can get started,” he chirps cheerfully, just the way his boss had encouraged him to do, holding out the pen. Their fingers brush. Niall tries not to gasp, feeling like a woman in a romance novel as his already ruddy Irish cheeks pinken slightly. 

-

It's a really slow day and this Zayn Malik is the only person there, a few of Niall's coworkers coming in and out after their lunch to shoot the shit and then basically peace out, not wanting to stay when there's no work for them. Niall doesn't mind, really, his attention all on the bike itself as he checks all of the parts, occasionally straddling it to start it up and listen to the noises it's making. He's almost positive that Zayn works on it himself, because this thing purrs like a kitten and hardly needs anything at all. The entire job pretty much consists of the oil change. 

Once it's finished, he invites Zayn back into the garage to go over everything he's done, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he walks alongside the darker man. 

“Basically, it didn't need much, just the oil change, so you're all set,” he explains, fiddling with the clipboard as Zayn looks over his bike, rubbing at his chin as he inspects it. His heart is beating out of his chest, skin feeling almost hot as he watches the other. Zayn nods after a long moment, looking up at Niall. 

“That's good. Great even. Show's all my hard work's paid off if a professional says it's good,” he hums, giving Niall a near feral smirk. Niall flushes hot again, swallowing as he averts his gaze back to the bike. 

“I'm hardly a professional, just started this job really,” he offers softly. His boss praised him over and over for his hard work and dedication to it, but he still wasn't _that_ great. At least he didn't think so. 

“Yeah, but you didn't just pick it up. You had to have learned something before you came here, yeah?” Zayn's words flow like molten chocolate through Niall's veins, and the younger man inhales a soft breath, resisting the urge to fan himself with his clipboard. He is in a romance novel, he _has_ to be. 

“I uh, did a bit of work on my friend's car, yeah,” he offers softly, squeakily, the backs of his thighs hitting the bike. He hadn't even noticed he was backing away, swallowing again, harder, as he peers up at Zayn through his eyelashes. “Went to school for it a couple years...” he offers and the words are so tiny he hardly even recognizes he's said them. 

“Well, uh, _Niall_ ,” Zayn hums, lifting a hand to flick gently over Niall's name tag. It comes dangerously close to Niall's nipple and he's not sure if he's popping a boner because of nerves or that tone, but either way he's got a stiffy. _Bad_. “I do have money to pay for your services, but I also want to give you a tip.” His hand drops to the front of Niall's work pants and he can't help the tiny wince that escapes him. 

“Um, I, Mr. Malik-” 

“Just call me Zayn,” he responds to Niall's stammering, pressing Niall up against his bike. His hands drop to either side of the leather seat as his face comes mere inches away from Niall's, close enough that Niall can feel his breath on his lips, taste the nicotine on his tongue without even licking into his mouth. He smirks and Niall can only tell by the predatory laugh on his lips, his eyes captivated by the dark amber ones staring back at him. 

“Fuck, yeah, okay Zayn,” he half whispers, and he shouldn't be worried, considering everyone else is gone for the day. It's just him, Zayn, and this bike. 

“So you accept my little... thank you, I guess?” Zayn hums, and Niall can't help the shuddery moan that passes his lips as Zayn's deft fingers work down his fly, skimming his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers just barely. 

He's at a loss for words, so he just nods, blinking dumbly at the other man as he drops to his knees. 

The first thing Zayn does is shuck away his leather jacket, and if Niall didn't have as much stamina, he would have come on the spot. His blue eyes take in inches of dark, tanned skin littered in tattoos, the view only making his cock throb as it comes free of his pants. 

When he feels a wet, pink tongue working over his shaft, he gasps slightly, eyes honing in on the real view. 

“You're... _shit_ , mate,” he exhales as Zayn peers up at him through those long eyelashes, dropping his gaze as he takes Niall into his mouth, working a good few inches past his lips. His cheeks hollow slightly and really bring out those cheek bones, and shit, shit, _shit_ , Niall is fucked. 

He is so screwed here. 

He wants to tangle his hand in Zayn's jet black hair, tug until he can tug no longer, but he knows that quiff took longer than the five minutes he's spent on his own hair, so he resists. Instead, his fingers close over the dark leather behind him, legs parting ever so slightly to give him a bit of leverage. 

It's mad as hell, anyone could just show up and see them, but Niall wouldn't give up this moment for anything. In this blissed out state, he's willing to risk his job for that mouth. 

“What do you like?” breaks his focus and he looks down at Zayn, his head tipping slightly to one side as he tries to work out an answer. It's tough with Zayn licking up the underside, tracing the thick vein that runs along his length. When he gets to the tip, he licks over the slit, sending a sharp shock of pleasure up Niall's spine. 

“Anythin',” Niall breathes out, and he knows it sounds like a horny teenager getting his first blowie in the back seat of a car, but that's how he feels right now. Completely undone. He's nearly dripping with precome, the opaque fluid leaking from the tip and down over his length, mixed partly with Zayn's spit. 

Zayn makes an agreeing noise, and shit, the way those long eyelashes fan over his cheeks and that wicked tongue? Niall's not going to last long. He's making a mental note of that right this second. 

Zayn works up a rhythm with the bobs of his head before long, and the wet noise accompanying the steady up-down of Zayn's mouth has Niall panting and whimpering desperately, toes curling inside of his work boots as his head tips back. 

“Keep... yeah, just like that,” he breathes out, wrinkling his nose as he feels himself get closer and closer, warmth pooling in his belly and settling deep in his middle. A few small moans sneak free and he almost has to clap a hand over his mouth, especially when Zayn's calloused hands grip his hips and then ass, holding him still as he works him off. 

“Gonna come, fuck, shit, _Zayn_ ,” Niall whimpers out after a moment, and it's a beat more before he's coming, Zayn pulling back after the first gush, the second hitting his slightly swollen bottom lip. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards and he leans in to lick at the tip, collecting a few last beads of come on his tongue before swallowing, looking up at Niall with the same feral grin as he wipes his mouth. 

“Good?” he asks, and his voice is rough from the effort, slowly getting to his feet. Niall can't do anything but nod, feeling locked in position with his knees slightly buckled. He's probably white knuckling the edge of Zayn's bike, grip loosening after a long moment so he can straighten himself up. 

“Yeah, that was... best tip I ever got,” he murmurs, and he feels like a limp noodle. He's not looking forward to any potential clients that might show up this afternoon. With his luck, there'll be a surge of them in the next few minutes. All he needs right now is a shower and a nap. 

Zayn smirks at that comment, helping him tuck back in and zip up, grabbing his leather jacket from the floor beside him and hooking it over his arm as his hand closes over one of the handlebars of his bike. 

Niall's still standing there as Zayn tugs on his helmet and zips out of the parking lot, grip closing tight around his clipboard and blue eyes still glazed from his orgasm.


End file.
